War Across Waters
by Fi Westen
Summary: An old enemy is back for Fiona after the news of her whereabouts was released by Strickler and O'Neil, Sean has come back from Ireland to help out. But is his appearance more trouble than it is good? Strong sexual content. Incest. You've been warned.


Sean stared at the note, handed to him by his contact. He'd promised McBri--Westen-- that he'd protect Fiona, keeping the waters calm over in Ireland. At least as far as the Fiona Glenanne 'fan club' was concerned. But how could he do that, when the threat was already reaching out past their home country, inching closer? He couldn't. Not from where he was.

As many enemies as she had, she still had a few allies, and those who were on Sean's side were willing to help. Trust, while hard to come by, was well earned. So it was with faith in his people, that he followed the lead he was given. Crumpling up the paper, he slipped it into his pocket, and secured passage back to New York City. The first lead pointed in that direction. A man by the name of Eric O'Toole, second generation Irish. Supposedly as American as they get, he still had a strong pride in his heritage, and a monetary stake in the Republic.

O'Toole, while on the surface was an honest businessman; success in this day and age usually came by less than honest means. Eric was no different. Selling Electronics was only his day job. His real passion was weapons. If it maimed, dismembered, or killed, he had it. Or knew how to acquire it. And in THAT line of work, business was booming. A few years ago, his biggest competition relocated, doubling his profits. He'd have thanked her, were it not for his hatred for successful women. Women should be seen, cleaning or cooking preferably, not heard, and certainly NOT working outside of the home. Which would explain why he never had a wife himself....

Sean tracked him down, intent on facing down and killing anyone who dared threaten his only sister. What he found, however, was an empty warehouse, no trace of O'Toole's illicit dealings to be seen. He didn't even have a picture of this guy. Not that it would change much. But he'd at least liked to see what he was dealing with. His cry of aggravation echoed through the empty warehouse, as he slammed his fist on the concrete wall, wincing at the pain. The slight burning ache in his fist brought his annoyance under control. He had other things to worry about. Like getting to his sister before O'Toole did.

"Michael, you've promised me this for WEEKS." Fiona groaned, as he postponed yet again for a client. It was ridiculous. He had been brushing off the romantic gesture he'd promised her after her close call with O'Neil. Sure, he had some guy on his tail, out for revenge on Strickler's death. But that didn't preoccupy ALL his time. Any chance he had, he'd come up with something. Until a whole month had passed, and not so much as a mention of their date.

"Fi..." The ex-spy just rolled his eyes, mind racing for yet another excuse. He really was terrible at emotional things. If it dealt with feelings, he ran from it. Normalcy was the one thing he feared. He was able to face down psycho military leaders, waving around semi-automatics, and barely break a sweat. But bring up a romantic rendezvous, and he ran screaming. Okay, maybe not running screaming. But he was a coward, nonetheless. Or maybe not afraid, just an idiot. Either way, he didn't feel like running a gauntlet of emotional crap right that second, so he shook his head. "Fine. Eight, tonight." Succinct, to the point. /I've learned negotiating with your on-again-off-again girlfriend is like negotiating with terrorists. Sometimes you just have to concede to survive./ Her face lit up, as she spun on her heels, hair following her lead, flaring out with the movement. A sense of dread fell over him as she hurried out the door, getting ready he could only presume. /Though sometimes it leads to you holding a ticking time-bomb, with no way to diffuse it./

Yeah, tonight was certainly going to be interesting, whether it was fun or not.

The chime of her wall clock rang out seven times. Less than an hour before their date. Okay, an hour exactly, but she liked to be early. Make sure he didn't sneak out the window or hide himself somewhere. Besides, it was good for him, to be kept on his toes.

She had been beaming the entire day, even her lunch meeting with Seymour went smoothly. His mention of destiny, and her and Michael just made her smile brighter. She couldn't help it. It had been WEEKS since she had any sort of alone time with the former spy. And tonight, she was going to make absolutely SURE it was just the two of them. Even if it meant she had to put a cell phone jammer in her purse, she was going to have a nice, quiet dinner with her man.

Unlike Michael, who just always wore the same thing pretty much - tan Armani - Fiona liked a little variety. And her closets showed that. As she rummaged through them, searching for just the right outfit, clothes flew from within, landing on her bed, on chairs... some even on the floor. She'd have time to clean up later. Right now, it was crunch time; she didn't have time to be neat with her stuff. "No... No.... Aha!" She came out, holding a blacker-than-black dress, extremely low cut V-neck, open back, and short enough to tease without being skanky. It'd go perfect with her onyx heels... if she could find them under the debris of clothes left over from Hurricane Fi.

Seven thirty saw her ready, putting on the finishing touches of her hair and light make-up. Getting into her new car, bought for her by her good friend Seymour - after a little influence of mixed drinks and a skimpy dress - she headed over to Michael's, eager for that long awaited date.

Michael stared at the clock with a sense of foreboding. He'd already gotten dinner made, gotten dressed in something a little more casual than his usual Armani, and was now waiting for doomsday. He did love her; there was no doubt in his mind about that. If there was anyone he'd see himself spending the rest of his life with, it would be Fiona. In some other world, some other life, he'd probably have already married her. But neither of them, no matter how hard she'd try denying it, was marriage material, was family material. There were those made for the 'normal'. Hell, he knew a few. He and Fiona weren't those people. They could pretend, even maybe have a kid, that WASN'T completely fucked up. But neither of them would be happy. They were free spirits, roamer. Their lives were better spent helping people - or in her case, selling weapons to help people kill each other - not settling down with a nine-to-five.

"Fiona..." He sighed, forgoing the usual yoghourt (he didn't want to spoil his appetite) for a beer. Just something to loosen his nerves, without completely throwing his senses off. James Bond might have been a lush, with his constantly with a drink in hand... but real spies rarely got drunk - not even the burned ones. The clock read seven thirty, only a half an hour to go... Less if he knew Fiona... which he did.

"Michael...." Her voice sighed, mimicking his own slight exasperation. "I'm early, and you're already giving me that tone? When you didn't even know I was here, might I add?" He fought the instinct to jump at her surprise appearance. Instead, he just turned, pasting his usual goofy grin on his face.

"Fi..." He turned, forcing his grin not to turn into a cringe. Her arms crossed over her chest, covering more of it than her dress did, actually. It was the type of dress that left just enough to the imagination; and right now, his was running rampant. "You're early." His voice was once more calm, as he gestured to the little spool table. It was the best he could do, and he DID cover it with a makeshift tablecloth, and a currently unlit candle. He'd expected her early, but not THIS early.

"Stating the obvious, Michael? I thought you were a bit more coherent than that." She chided, taking her seat in his favourite chair, making him settle for the folding chair. It was her night. Well, their night. But it was what SHE'D been waiting for, for over a month. She deserved the finest. And considering he didn't comment on the seat, she figured he agreed.

Without a word, he went into the kitchen area, pulling a dish out of the oven and portioning out two plates. And hey, they weren't paper, which said SOMETHING, right? It wasn't until he sat down that he'd said anything. "Fi, I'm sorry." For what? He didn't quite know yet. But always best to cover ones bases. Especially when dealing with psychotic girlfriends.

"For…?" She prompted, picking up her fork and taking a bit. She didn't eat it yet, though. That tone could be warning for a good many things. 'For Poisoning your food', for example. "If you're going to say 'for ordering take-out', I WILL have to hurt you."

He laughed, taking a bite off his own plate. "No, I made it. It's an old Arabic dish I learned a while back." She gave him a look that said 'Figures it'd be Arabic'.

"Then for what?" She set her fork down, leaning over the table with an air of authority. "What could you have possibly done now that I need to forgive?" So much for pre-emptive strike… He thought with a mental sigh. Note to self; never apologize for something that hasn't happened yet.

"For making you wait so long for this date. I've just been busy." He waved her off before she could open her mouth to say anything. "I know, it's no excuse. I should have MADE time. But the truth was, I was afraid." Dating, to a spy, was a dance... or another game of chance. You keep things as close to the vest as possible. Until things come to a head, and you have to give them something, before you lose them. A little vulnerability went a long way in dating. "When I thought you... When I thought I lost you, because of Strickler, I couldn't handle that. I'm no good at these things. But with someone after me, out to clean up Strickler's mess... I didn't want you in the middle of it, getting caught in the crossfire again."

That was about as much honesty as she was ever going to get from him. And it was an honesty that brought a tear to her eye. That admission was more than she could have imagined, could have hoped for. He may never actually say the words... but as they say, actions speak louder anyway. "Oh, Michael." She leaned over the table a second time, reaching out for his hand, for his arm. It was a small table, but even though it was less than a meter, it seemed like a mile. "That's so sweet."

"It is?" He asked, genuinely surprised at her response. He really was no good at emotions. He would have expected her to accuse him of just making up another excuse... to jump across the table and throttle him for letting Strickler get in the way again. Not the sultry way she leaned over, slipping around the table to put less distance between them. The dress slid down her shoulder slightly, showing him that she was - per usual - not wearing a bra. It made him wonder what else she wasn't wearing. He fought his own mind not to wander down that path. When it did... well things rarely went well after that. Especially with such a temptress right there, sliding closer to him. He hadn't noticed her get out of her chair, that's how fluid her movements were. She was pretty much at the same level, but she was now crouching before him, hands resting on his knees.

"It is." She answered, moving in for a kiss.

The kiss was spicy, his lips still holding a taste of the exotic dish he'd prepared. It was a shame to let it go to waste that way. But his lips, his skin, were a far better treat than any meal. If she had to choose between kissing him and eating, the choice was obvious. Licking the remainder of the spices from his lips, she delved deeper, exploring inside his mouth. He made no move to oppose her, so she continued, her hands moving higher, massaging the tight muscles of his thighs along the way. A soft moan escaped their joined lips, and she took that as encouragement to continue.

He couldn't fight it, even if he'd wanted to. This was what their relationship was, anyways. Love or Lust? With them the border between the two was often skewed, always fuzzy. It was physical, but went so far beyond that, even if the physical aspect was all they really expressed. He trusted her with his life, as she did him - he presumed. Maybe kids and a white picket fence wasn't in the plans for them, normal wasn't in their futures. But it didn't mean he didn't see her as the ONLY person he could ever see himself with. Romance, while a fleeting concept, was only something he could manage with her. Sure, she was psycho; sure she was a bomb making, gun running crazy. But she was his.

As he met her tongue with his own, he let her see those thoughts, with deed over words.

She was practically in his lap already, her sleeveless dress' front falling off her shoulders even more as she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him to the floor with her.

"God, Fi." He groaned, as he landed on top of her, panting. The fall pulling them apart, they took the moment to relearn how to breathe, hearts racing in their chests. Only she could get him so far gone, with just a kiss. She let her legs fall to either side of his knees, pulling him completely on top of her. She loved that comforting weight of his body, his warmth, his smell.... Everything that was Michael Westen. In moments like this, where she had him - and she could feel even through the fabric of their clothes that she did - everything else fell to the wayside. In those moments, the entire universe fell away, leaving just him, and her.

"Michael." Her moan spilled out, dripping with the need she felt. It'd been too long. Not just the sex... though that was nice. Very, VERY nice... but his touch, just HIM. She missed this. Even on the cold floor, she didn't care. As long as she felt him, as long as he was there... it could be anywhere. "God, Michael." She breathed against his ear, before nibbling lightly on its lobed. Leaning forward slightly, making sure not to crush her, he kissed her neck, licking the prominent collar bone teasingly. The whimper it elicited egged him on; and he kissed his way south. His warm breath left a cool trail down her skin, as he kissed and licked to her small, but firm breasts, licking one, while he teased the other with his hand.

Moments like this, he was so close to just telling her he loved her. Because he really did. But it always just felt forced in situations like that... as if he only said it because it's what's expected. And with any other woman, he'd have no problem lying like that, telling her a pretty lie to enhance the moment. But not with Fi. Fiona was the only one he'd never just say he loved her just to say it. To him, it made the words meaningless. So he opted to show her, instead.

His tongue flicked teasingly against the sensitive flesh of her nipple, smiling as her back arched, pressing her into him. Her hands found their way under his shirt, nails tracing small trails along his back. He didn't care they were on the floor, and by her actions, neither did she. He slid his supporting arm under her back, lifting her closer to his waiting mouth. He continued teasing her breast with his mouth, though his hand trailed lower, caressing her abdomen, reaching under the jet black fabric. The light, teasing touch made her eyes flutter shut, head falling back as she arched into his touch.

His hand reached the lace barrier of her undergarment, slightly surprised she was actually wearing any, partly annoyed at their presence. But they were little obstruction, as his fingers sliding deftly beneath the thin fabric to toy with the wetness beneath. She groaned with impatient desire, bucking against his hand as he teased between the swollen folds. "Mmm... Dinner can wait, don't you think?" His voice rumbled against her breast, causing her to gasp as his hot, moist breath enveloped her nipple. "I'm ready for dessert." He grinned, smile widening as she whimpered when he pulled back.

"M... Michael." She moaned, already missing the feel of him on top of her. Slipping his arm from beneath her back, he moved down, pushing his chair aside for more room. Their movements already rode her skirt almost completely up, a flash of black lace peeked from under it. That, of course, wouldn't do at all. He leaned forward, breathing on the wet fabric lightly, letting his warm breath caress her through the panties, before he pulled them off and tossed them aside. Her breath, already erratic, caught in her throat, as his tongue slid excruciatingly slowly along the exposed flesh. The air was so much cooler than his breath, and it made her squirm under his teasing touches. "M...mmm...." She couldn't even begin to say his name, only a panting groan slid from her parted, kiss-swollen lips.

Her scent filled his senses, causing his own sound of pleasure to escape. Her taste, tangy and sweet, with that something that was all HER... coated his tongue, as he lapped at her dripping folds. He spread her open, slipping two fingers into her depths as he licked up her delectable fluids. She bucked against him, walls sucking on his fingers as they pumped into her. Her voice became a panting moan, words beyond her as he felt her reaching her peak.

She was close; Michael knew her body better than even she did... his touches sending electricity burning through her limbs. Her back arched more, and he had to hold her down as she writhed against the floor, possessed by his ministrations. A scream caught in her throat, as she felt the first shuddering wave of orgasm crash into her body... Michael lapping it up eagerly.

"So THAT'S how ya American's go about things, eh?"

The voice barely registered, as her orgasm came in waves, her senses dwindled down to where Michael was nuzzling her core, licking up the wetness. "AHEM." The Irish voice interrupted AGAIN. Her hands entangled themselves in the ex-spy's short hair, as her entire body tensed, shaking from the force of her climax.

Michael, however noticed the Glenanne sibling's entrance, well, when he spoke. Though his focus was on finishing what he was doing. Besides, THAT was too tasty a delicacy to leave unfinished. Straightening up, he slid her skirt down, covering her back up with her dress. "Sean... I thought you were supposed to be back in Ireland..."

"Sean!?" Fiona gasped, clutching her dress to her. She half didn't care, wanting to continue with Michael. But the reasonable part of her knew that if Sean was back, it was for a reason.

"I WAS in Ireland. Keepin' a reign on things there. But Fiona's enemies don't just sit and stay when you tell 'em." The cocky look on her brother's face barely masked the concern he had for her safety. His eyes drifted between the pair. Were it not such a dire circumstance that brought him, he'd be far more amused by the situation before him. Instead, he turned around allowing his sister time to make herself presentable.

Fiona pulled up the straps of her dress to cover her breasts before approaching Sean, she didn't have time to look for her panties -- It would just be too awkward. She placed her hand on his shoulder and he turned to face her, reading her concern and the slight edge of fear in her wide eyes.

"Who is it, Sean? I mean, we all know that the list is a bit long for me to start guessing names..."

"It's your 'old friend' O'Toole... Apparently, that bastard Strickler told more than just O'Neil where to find ya," Sean scowled as he spoke, anger etching his words, "Started out lookin' for him in New York only to find that he hopped a flight south. Seems Westen had ya covered though, huh?" He grinned, slapping her on the back.

Fiona's face paled as she turned to Michael. He quickly moved in to embrace her, threading his fingers into her hair.

"It's okay Fi; we'll take care of him. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you," he told her softly. She slowly snaked her hands up his back, returning his embrace then raised her face to his ear.

"Michael...?"

"Yeah Fi?"

"I may have forgotten to lock the door..."

Michael just chuckled, burying his face into her hair.

The next hour was spent making phone calls and looking for anyone who possibly had any contact with O'Toole before Michael finally stumbled upon a weapons aficionado who had recently done business with him. He was a relatively successful man who, like most others in his financial situation, enjoyed the party life. Jacob Morton, the "collector" often frequented Mansion, a popular nightclub on Miami Beach. It would seem, per his usual Friday night routine, that's where he was.

"Fi, I'm not saying that I don't think you can do it, I'd just rather have you stay here where you're –"

"Safe?" Fi interjected, "I don't think so Michael. This guy isn't after me; he was just unknowingly funding the ass that is."

"Fiona…" he said in a warning tone.

"And what are you suggesting? You and Sean go ahead and leave me here alone? That sounds like a great idea. Why don't you just walk up to O'Toole and hand me over?"

"Sean would be –"

"The hell I would, Westen." Sean interjected, interrupting Michael again.

"Listen," Michael sighed in exasperation. "Can you two just please work with me?"

"Of course!" Fiona exclaimed, smiling "Here's your P228, I'll grab my little beauty and we'll be waiting in the Charger."

"That's not what I –"

Before he could finish, Fiona had grabbed her bag and she and her brother were walking out the door. He hadn't even noticed when she had put her shoes back on… Had they even come off? He was too pre-occupied with other wonderful things while he was down there. He winced now, feeling the beginning of a headache after dealing with the two siblings. Fi was bad enough on her own, but when Sean came into the equation, they were impossible to reason with. He'd just have to convince them to stay on lookout, in case anything went sour.

Michael quickly changed his outfit to something more appropriate for the situation. While dressing down was fine for his date at home, he would need something more impressive now. He finished up; tying his shoe laces and loading his gun; then grabbed his keys off the table and headed for his car. The Glenanne duo were sitting on the hood snickering at him as he came out.

"Did 'ya see his face when ya said that?"

"It's typical; I think he actually just gives me a hard time so I feel better when I win." She smiled, looking in his eyes.

"Very funny, let's go guys." Fi gave him a little pout but helped Sean squeeze into the back seat before settling in the passenger side next to Michael.

"Just to make it clear," Michael started as they were driving, "You two aren't coming inside."

Fi opened her mouth to argue but he raised his hand, cutting her off.

"No, Fi. I need you two to keep a look out. We're going to stay connected on my Bluetooth; you should be able to hear if anything goes wrong. Sean's going to stay with you because I need to talk to him ALONE. There's a good chance if O'Toole was talking to anyone in Miami, especially anyone buying black market guns, he would have brought up your name. Just trust me, please?"

She smiled, a little disappointed but understanding. Michael was right, as much as she hated to admit it. At least she might be able to get a piece of the guy after he left… If he left…

Michael walked around the outskirts of the floor smoothing his jacket -- He knew what he was looking for. He was starting to lose hope when he saw him, a brunette with blond tips gaudily spiked up, sipping a beer. Morton already looked as if he had already had a few, laughing with two trashy bleach blonds. Quite frankly, he wasn't sure what the guy saw in them -- they were probably just two easy holes to entertain him for the night. He pursed his lips as he walked up.

"Jake, is it?" The man looked surprised, but then took on an easy smile as he shooed his company away.

"You buddies with Rick?"

"Yeah, the name's --"

"No man, I gotcha, you're uh... Dave, right? He told me he'd send someone to catch up with me about the girl."

Michael smiled, feeling uneasy. It was going far too well, the fact that he already knew about Fiona made Michael feel a bit sick but he kept it hidden. He took a seat next to Jacob and shook his head.

"Yeah, what've you got?"

"Seems a friend of mine did some business with the bitch a bit back. I'm gonna have him give her a call, you know, set up a meet saying he's interested in buyin' some shit."

"Your friend got any idea where to find her so we don't have to pull her out in the open like that?" he stared Jake down, the man was obviously too drunk to lie.

"Nah, man. But I tell ya what. Said the chick dressed like a ho. I'll see if he can try an' get her somewhere more... private if ya know what I mean."

Michael laughed ignoring the sound of Fi quietly cussing to her brother in his ear. This could get a bit more complicated than he planned. He didn't like the idea of putting Fi out like bait for O'Toole; there was no telling how many men he would have with him. O'Neil practically had a small army at his disposal. Who knew what O'Toole brought with him.

"Say, Eric didn't talk to anyone else about her, did he? Not sure how many other guys I gotta go talk to tryin' to find this girl."

"I dunno man, but if he's got more pictures he better send them my way. I'm gonna be takin' this one ta bed with me, ya know? No tits but she's still a looker."

Jacob took a photo out of his inner jacket pocket. It was Fiona back in Ireland. In the picture she was smiling, holding a semi-automatic almost like a proud parent. She was wearing a thin, white tank top that hugged her curves and he could make out the top of a worn pair of olive cargo pants.

"Wow..." was all Michael could say, the photo almost made him smile but it was the current holder of said photo that kept him uneasy.

"Yeah, tell ya what, if I found her first, I'd be bangin' the hell outta her before I called Rick up." Jacob let out a boisterous laugh before pocketing the picture again.

"You know, I don't think Eric would be too happy about damaged goods..."

"Hey, I wouldn't hurt her too bad. And he said if I found her, I could play around with her a little. Give the cunt what she deserves."

Michael and Jake both laughed at that one, the former spy felt as if he were about to puke. Jake clapped him on the shoulder though, pushing himself off of the sofa.

"Gotta use the can?" Michael asked lightly.

"You kidin'? I gotta get the hell outta here. Prolly gonna have a hangover as it is."

Dread crossed his face as Morton walked away, easily getting lost in the crowd. He struggled to push through the swarm as inconspicuously as possible. His contact was almost at the door.

"Fi... Get out of there. He knows what you look like."

"Michael there are two of us... We can take him."

"We need him and we're not ready for a standoff with O'Toole! Get out of --"

"Shit!"

---------------------------------------

Fiona saw him as he exited; luckily he didn't seem to her noticed her... yet. Quickly, she grabbed Sean, pulling him in front of her and locking lips. Sean froze initially, shocked, but then took her hips in his hands pinning her body between him and the brick wall. She reached up to thread her fingers in his hair making sure to cover her face as her brother pressed his tongue into her mouth. She let out a quiet gasp but slid her tongue against his, feeling her nipples harden in the skimpy dress as they rubbed against the thin fabric of his tee shirt. She could feel the musculature of his chest through the fabric and locked her leg around his for support, trusting him to keep her standing, although her legs were feeling weak.

She almost forgot why exactly they were making out as Sean panted heavily into her mouth, his tongue still warring with hers. She couldn't see past her arm and her brother's hair if Jacob was gone but, she was almost beginning not to care. As far as covers went, this was actually turning out to be surprisingly pleasant. She felt herself beginning to slip, four inch wedges weren't exactly the best for traction or balance, especially when she was already finding it difficult to stand. But Sean felt, moving his hand from her hip to grasp the bottom of her thigh. She moaned softly at the caress on the sensitive flesh.

"Yeah! Looks like someone's gettin' some tonight!" they heard someone drunkenly shout.

It was hard to tell if it was the same voice from the club, the music and bass had distorted it too much. Finally they heard a voice from their sides.

"I hope he brushed his teeth before you did that. You don't know where that thing's been."

Sean pulled away, quickly catching Fiona before she hit the ground. He snickered.

"Tha' good, huh?" Fiona pushed herself up into a better stance before retorting.

"Have you ever tried standing at an angle in heels? These things have absolutely no grip." She turned to Michael, grimacing as she wiped her mouth, "We should probably go home, I guess..."

"Good idea, Fi. Get some rest, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow." he grinned, "I hope you unpacked your mouthwash."

Fi just glared at him before tugging at Sean's arm.

"Let's go. We're close enough to walk. I'll see you tomorrow, Michael."

Sean froze at the entrance of her place, eyes widening as Fi opened the door. "Fiona, I think you should wait here. I think O'Toole already got here. And boy was he lookin' for something." Carefully, he picked his way through the mess of clothes spewed out of the side room, noticing the pile on her couch. "Either that or you have a panty thief." He joked, as he picked up a pair of said clothing articles - in this case a black thong with a palm tree on the front - and swung it around his index finger.

Mortified, Fi grabbed the thong, tossing it on top of the clothing pile on the couch, and took the entire pile back to her room. Sean followed, picking up the clothes that fell from the pile and whatever was lying on the floor already. As he bent down to pick up another, he got a glimpse of Fiona's backside. Either she was currently wearing a VERY skimpy thong, or she just wasn't wearing ANYTHING. He knew which he'd hoped it was... and which his stirring loins hoped it was.

Still, he straightened up, carrying the pile of laundry into her room with her. Dropping it on the bed beside her own pile, he grinned, holding up a pair of panties with a little ship on it, and the words "Welcome Aboard" written around the ship. "I thought Michael was in the army, not the navy." He teased, trying to ease the tension he felt by being in his sister's room, with an erection straining in his jeans. It was anything but appropriate, his feelings for her. But after that kiss earlier, he was sure she felt the same way. Or at least was interested. Nobody kissed that way when they weren't interested.

Annoyed, she grabbed the panties from him, noticed the teasing grin, and smiled back. "While I appreciate the protectiveness, I can take care of myself." She told him, picking up an article of clothes and putting it back where it belonged. With all the hectic activity of the past day, she hadn't even been home to change, let alone pick up the mess. Of course she hadn't expected her brother to walk into her mess, let alone actually feeling a bit aroused by the fact he was playing with her panties. She brushed it off as an after effect of the night's interrupted rendezvous with Michael. She hadn't had any for a while... he was there, and male. She shook her head, forcing it from her thoughts, ignoring the slickness she felt between her legs. "Besides, this mess is all mine. I was in a hurry, and couldn't find the right outfit." She was still wearing the one she had picked out, though the black lace panties she'd chosen to go with it were now somewhere at Michael's. She was rather glad she chose a slightly longer skirt; one of her minis would have been just TOO embarrassing.

His eyes widened in surprise. Even as a child, Fiona was always so neat. And last time he was here, her place was impeccable. Sure most of her stuff was packed away already. But what was left was still spotless. The mess he'd come into was so unlike her. She was ignoring his expression, or just didn't notice. Too absorbed in cleaning up that mess, perhaps. Or maybe just ignoring the arousal he KNEW she was feeling too. Right now, he didn't care if she was using him as a surrogate Michael, fulfilling those needs he'd interrupted that night. He'd rather prefer her to want HIM, but he'd take what he could get. As she turned around to pick up another piece of clothing from the ground, he could see a teasing inch more of skin, his length aching with desire. Desire for his own SISTER. The thought SHOULD have repulsed him. It should have been like a douse of cold water. But no. It made it all the hotter, that tone of the illicit, that guilty secret.

As she stood up, his hand slid under her skirt. He hoped it wasn't too forward, but his need was enough to make him not care TOO much. She straightened immediately, pulling away. But he could feel the moist heat, that dripping need that coated his fingers. She wanted this as much as he did, and now he had proof. It also proved that she WASN'T wearing anything under that sexy skirt. "Someone's bein' naughty..." He teased, licking the fluid from his fingers when she turned to face him angrily. The anger faded at his glossy, aroused eyes, hers drifting south. His own need stood at attention, showing even through the thick material of his jeans.

His eyes caught hers, his tongue flicking between his fingers, teasing her with a promise of things to come. A soft groan spilled from his mouth, as he licked the last of her off his fingers. He reached out, pulling her closer, eager for another taste. She knew she shouldn't; he knew it, too. But it'd been so long, her need for physical contact, for that full feeling just washed over her, and she let his warm, strong hands pull her to him, giving no resistance. She should fight him, kick him, tell him 'no'. But all she could think of was the feeling of his fingers, as they roamed under her dress, sliding up to her waiting heat... that teasing caress of his fingers, running along her swollen lips, avoiding the one place she wanted him to touch.

A soft moan escaped, as she moved closer, trying to get him to touch her, to stop teasing and just do it already. His slicked fingers slipped effortlessly between her dripping folds, two of them sliding into her waiting depths. It felt so good to be touched again, even if it was her own brother doing the touching. Her walls clung to his fingers, coaxing him deeper, even as his thumb found her sensitive nub, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins. She tried to tell him 'no', tried to tell him they shouldn't... but it only came out another moan.

"Ya like that, do ya?" He asked, flicking her clit again with the pad of his thumb, watching her jump at the touch with a look of wonder. She was so enthralled in the moment, in the pleasures HE was giving her. He loved it. He reveled in the knowledge that HE was the one giving her those pleasures... that her buckling knees were caused by HIS touch. Not Michael McBride... or Westen... or whoever he was. But him, Sean Glenanne. The thought made his member weep with desire. "I know what'll feel even better." He breathed, standing up, though his hand was still embedded within her moist heat. His free hand unbuckled his belt, no need to tease or torment himself. Her very presence... and the promise of what was to come... every second he had to wait for it was enough torture. His pants were around his knees in record time, his straining length standing at full attention. The head already shimmered in the dull light, precum dripping from it.

He wanted to have her taste him; the feel of her soft, full lips on his cock would have been amazing. But his need went beyond oral gratification. A mere blow job wouldn't, couldn't suffice. He needed to feel her surround him, taking him in to the hilt. He kissed her neck, turning her back to him and pulling her close. He noted the soft whimper of disappointment that spilled from her lips as his hand left her core empty. A smile spread across his lips, loving how badly she wanted him.

"Never you mind, SISTER." He emphasized the last word, as his left hand reached up her dress, pushing it aside completely to cup her breast. He didn't give her a chance to pull away, to even react at all to the word. His other hand held himself, poising it at her wetness; running its head along her folds a few times to tease her, before his own need drove him inside, filling her to the core with his hard shaft.

She bucked against him, her own body belying any protests she might have made. Even her mouth fought her, calling out his name. "S...ean." Her voice quivered, blatant desire giving it a depth beyond its usual. Her knees felt weak. She wasn't sure just how long she could stand there, and he hadn't even moved yet. His hands were, though, teasing her small, pert breasts, pinching the raised nipples roughly, reveling in each moan she gave.

"God, Fi..." He moaned, backing up to the bed, pulling her with him. Sitting down, he pulled her down on top of him, eliciting a sound somewhere between a moan and a gasp, as he filled her again. Her legs spilled apart, the dress she was wearing almost more of a sash now, covering less skin than was exposed. The full length mirror across the room gave him a perfect view of her arched back, that shaven, pink pussy glistening. His eyes focused on where they were joined, etching the sight into his memory. He didn't know if he'd ever get this again... not from her. Sure, he'd had plenty of women... but none of them were as ... Fiona. None could compare. The way they fit together, the way her body fit into his lap so perfectly as he began moving... nothing could compare. The wetness along his shaft glistened in the light, spreading her folds to expose her soft core and the soft bundle of nerves at the top. It was just perfect.

She met his movements, matching the motion as if instinctively. Her mind was a blank, as she met his eyes through the mirror. Everything was numbed, compared to the waves of pleasure coursing through her body, setting her veins on fire. Their bucking sped up, unable to restrain themselves against the rising pleasure. His arms wrapped around her waist, forgoing the teasing, the need to hold her becoming overwhelming. Her arms rested on his, hands clenching and unclenching around his, fingers locking with his. Her legs were pretty much in the splits, as enthralled as he was at their joining. It was strange, she should be disgusted, should get off... but she couldn't. Her body wouldn't let her. She needed this as much as he did... Those tendrils of pleasure filling her limbs - causing them to tense - her back arching against him, her body writhing into his. Only unintelligible words dripped from her lusty lips, a panting mantra of gibberish... her brain unable to form words.

"Fi... Oh, God, Fi..." He panted, unable to breath deep enough, unable to catch his breath. He would drown within her, he just knew it... her smell, the deep, sweet smell of sex, of HER sex... filled his nostrils, filled his mouth with the taste of her. And when her head fell back, resting on his shoulder, he captured her lips in his. Their searing kiss threatened to suffocate them, but neither wanted to pull away first. Their climaxes came closer, building higher as their breathing faltered and they had to break away for air.

Her orgasm caught her in the middle of a shuddering gasp, and she had to bite her lip not to scream out. Her walls contracted, trying to pull him as far into her as his body would allow, and that still wasn't enough. She needed more. More contact; closer, deeper. She turned her back on the mirror, not pulling off him any further than she had to. Both Glenanne was grateful for her flexibility, as she swung her leg over his body, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him in to the hilt as her climax came in waves, building with each movement. His mouth locked onto hers again, their impassioned kiss muffling their cries as his own climax came, flooding her with his seed, her walls drinking it up, milking him for all he was worth.

She fell against his chest, feeling his sweat-soaked shirt. She didn't want to feel cloth. She wanted skin. Shaky hands slid his shirt up, not even bothering with the buttons. There, that was better. His hot, sweaty chest enveloped her in his scent as her eyes drifted shut, snuggling against his warmth.

"FI?!" She didn't feel the rumble of his chest, and it wasn't his voice... Her groggy, euphoric mind didn't register exactly WHOSE voice it actually was. Not even after it called to her again "FI...", did she recognize the annoyed voice, though the tone was familiar. She knew it... but it didn't matter. She'd just had AMAZING sex. What mattered after that? "FIONA!" Now THAT got her. He NEVER used her full name.

"Michael!" She sat up, gasping lightly at the feel of her brother still inside her. Her BROTHER.... "Oh, GOD..." She grabbed at her dress, trying futilely to pull it down, cover her up... cover up where she and Sean were joined. "It's not what you think...." Yeah, right.

-----

Michael stormed from the room, face red with anger as he stalked down the hallway. Fiona quickly shoved Sean aside, chasing after Michael, pulling at the bottom of her dress and clenching to the top above her breasts.

"Michael!" she shouted, as she sprinted up to him, grabbing his shoulder. He swatted her hand away but turned to face her, fury in his eyes.

"How could you do that, Fi?" he yelled, "Why the HELL would you do that with your own brother?" Fiona's eyes locked with his, hers filling with tears as she sank to her knees.

"I don't know... I don't... Michael, please..." she begged.

He looked down at her begging before him, practically weeping. Her small frame wracked with sobs and felt his resolve cave a bit. He hated seeing her cry, no matter the situation, it always made him feel like the villain. He lowered himself to the floor in front of her, feeling as if he was about to start crying as well, he just couldn't understand. The whole situation made no sense. It was like he had walked into some strange Freudian nightmare and he was just praying to wake up. Hearing Sean zipping his fly though, he couldn't deny that it was real. He reached to Fiona's face, pushing the hair out of it and holding her cheek.

"Why, Fi?" he asked, his voice teary.

This was the one woman he couldn't imagine his life without -- the one he'd do anything for, and she had cheated on him. She had lain with another man. And that other man was her own flesh and blood.

"I don't know..." she began, choking back a sob, "I just, I stopped thinking... It was like my brain wasn't working and... I mean, when he touched me, I was angry but, when I turned and saw his eyes, when I saw the want there... It was like all the sense I had just melted away..."

"It's okay Fi, It's okay." He pulled her to him, ignoring the smell of sex permeating from her dress and skin. She grabbed hold of him in return, holding him too tightly, lest he wanted to pull away, but he could feel her nodding into his shoulder.

"He's not staying here though. I'll ask mom in the morning if he can sleep at her place."

"What about tonight?" Fi asked, looking up at him. She could see him glaring past her; Sean had emerged from her bedroom, sensing the storm had passed.

"Go grab a change of clothes for tomorrow; I'll wait for you to shower. You're coming home with me."

------

Fiona stretched as the sun woke her, tracing across her face as Michael's shirt rode up her thighs. She squinted at the light, wondering how much of the previous night was true. It had a dreamy feel to it, every bit of it a little fuzzy as she rolled onto her back in Michael's bed. Maybe she had missed something -- drank too much wine and they had finished their date, had a steamy rendezvous. Maybe they had never gone to the club -- never went to track down O'Toole... She had never kissed -- made out with -- her brother or bedded him and the fight Michael and she had was just a nightmare. She turned her head towards Michael's side of the bed, only seeing untidy sheets and his pillow. Instead, she heard him in the kitchenette. She smiled hopping up and sauntering over to him. Quietly moving behind him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, having to raise herself onto her tip-toes to do so.

"Mmm... Morning, Michael." she whispered into his ear seductively. His shoulders slouched forward as he heard her voice, cringing at how lightly she spoke... It was almost as if nothing had happened, but he knew better. He sighed, taking a pace forward then turning to her.

"Morning, Fi..." his eyes were still glued to the ground and Fiona found herself a bit taken aback. Surely it couldn't be...

"Is everything alright?"

"Fi...," he sighed again "I'm not sure how to answer that..."

"No..." her eyes widened at his reaction, it was too much, "I didn't... I couldn't have!"

Panic was beginning to set in, visible by the quick shallow gasps she was making in an attempt to breathe. He placed his hands on either side of her face shushing her in an attempt to calm her down.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"NO!" Fi shouted, practically jumping away from him.

"Fi, calm down..."

"CALM DOWN?! You're telling me to calm down after I fucked my brother?! I fucked him Michael! He was INSIDE me."

Michael wasn't sure what to do; Fiona rarely got that worked up. Not to mention, he wasn't sure if he should try to stop her from feeling bad about the fact that she had slept with Sean. It was unnatural. How was he supposed to deal with incest, there wasn't exactly any manual or training course, especially when one of the participants was your lover. He couldn't yell at her, he couldn't quite bring himself to be too mad, she was obviously punishing herself enough. Both looked towards the door as the heard it open, it was Sam -- So there was a God. Sam looked shocked, as his eyes moved from the near hysterical Fiona to the uncomfortable, confused Michael and back.

"You guys want me to leave?" he asked, gesturing with the hand that wasn't holding the case of beer, but was quickly welcomed by Fiona as she scurried over to grab a bottle and chug it.

"It's fine, Sam." Michael said, feeling a bit more at ease.

"So, uh, any plans for today, Mikey?"

"What did you hear?" Fiona asked sharply, accusation in her tone.

"Lady, all I heard was you screaming about... well, you know... With someone." he furrowed his brow, "Anyone I know?"

She glared at him, looking ready to pounce as he chuckled. He put his hands up in surrender, the gesture reading: Okay, I'm done, calm down. Sam plopped down in one of Michael's chairs and took a swig from his bottle, thinking briefly before slapping his hand on his thigh.

"You know what you two need --"

"We don't have time, Sam" Michael said, cutting him off.

"Oh, Come on, Mikey, it's easy and you two look like you could use the distraction."

"As appealing as your offer sounds, we're busy tracking down one of Fi's old enemies."

"Geez, Fi, you really know how to make lasting friendships." he chuckled heartily, before looking at them, "You need any help?"

"Actually, that would be great, why don't you talk to your friends and see if they've heard anything. The guy's name is Eric O'Toole."

"Gotcha Mikey. I'll make a few calls."

With that, Sam got back up, quickly stopping by the refrigerator to drop the case of beer in and shot them a smile before walking out the door. Michael looked back at his floor; it suddenly seemed more interesting than having to try talking to Fiona again. The rage that had passed so suddenly the night prior began to rise inside him. Fiona watched as his eyes closed and the hand that he was leaning on his workbench with gripped the side of the table. He was shaking. She was starting to feel uncomfortable so she grabbed her change of clothes and ran upstairs to change.

As she unbuttoned the dress shirt, Fi examined her nude form; there were bruises that had formed in the shape of Sean's fingers where he had gripped her hips during their love making. Love making... Was that what she truly thought of it as? The word froze her as she thought over it again. She had just thought of her brother's and her tryst as love making. It was quite disturbing though, what bothered her more was how her nipples were becoming erect again, her sex getting slightly wet as she re-pictured the night. There was just so much passion, the adoration that tinted his lusty words. Fiona shook her head to clear it; this wasn't something that she should be thinking about, not like this. Quickly she grabbed the panties off the top of the pile and slipped them on, following them with a small pair of shorts. She pulled the tank top on, noting how a couple of the finger-shaped bruises became visible when she lifted her arms to put her hair in a ponytail. She pulled down on the bottom of it, recovering them before she trotted down the stairs again making sure she looked cheerier than she really felt.

"So do you want to go talk to your mom and I'll go kick Sean out?"

"And if she says 'no?'"

"She won't," Fiona smiled, "But if she does, I'll pay for a hotel for him. He is still helping us out, Michael. Just because he made one mis--"

"One mistake, Fi?" he cut her off, "Don't you remember how you were this morning before Sam came by?"

"Well --"

"And if he tries to make a move on you again?"

"Michael." she said sternly, "It was a mistake. I'm sure he realizes that too. I don't think either of us meant for that to happen. It just got out of hand."

Michael let out a low growl before sitting to angrily put on his shoes. Fi watched him, buckling the strap on her wedges before walking to him.

"If he TOUCHES you --"

"Michael..." she put her finger over his lips, sitting beside him on the bed, "That won't happen. And I'm in my right mind now. I'll just kick his ass."

She smiled at him again before wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing her forehead to his. He tensed but wrapped his arms around her waist. They shifted slightly, resting their heads on each other's shoulders and stayed in the embrace for a while. What couldn't be said was there: reassurance. Rekindling a bond that seemed nearly severed after the events of the night before. His hold on her tightened and she responded by tightening hers as much as she could without choking him, she gently brushed his hair with her fingers, leaning her face to press a kiss against his cheek. Neither wanted to let go, both fearing that what they had recovered would be lost when they broke apart. But still they separated from each other, each with their own assignment to attend to.

"Be careful, Fi."

"It'll be okay, Michael."

"Do you want me to drop you off?" he asked, possessiveness edging his tone.

She paused for a moment, thinking.

"I think the walk will be good for me. And I think YOU need time to calm down before you see Sean again."

----------------------------

Michael drove to his mother's a little too fast, too recklessly. Saying he was upset was greatly undercutting how he felt. He was upset with Fi for the night before, he was pissed at himself for somehow not being enough for her, at Sean for taking advantage of her. And once more at Fi for going back to talk to him alone, but he knew arguing with her was futile. The brakes squealed as he slammed to a stop in front of his mother's house but he forced a semi-cheerful demeanour as he walked in.

"Michael!" Madeline joyfully shouted.

"Hey, ma..."

"What is it this time? If you're going to tell me that I have to leave town again, I'll let you know right now that I'm staying right here!"

"No, it's nothing like that. I was just wondering if Sean could stay with you again. It's just for a few days until we get some things cleared up. Then he'll be on his way back to Ireland."

"Michael," she smiled "We've been through this before; your friends can stay here anytime they want. What's the problem though, something I should know about?"

"Fi's just in a little trouble. It's nothing too serious."

"Every time you say 'it's nothing too serious," it usually gets pretty bad."

She walked into the kitchen, lighting another cigarette off of the one she had just finished. She crossed her arms in front of her, clearly bothered by the prospect of harm coming to her son's girlfriend... again. Though, maybe this would be enough to convince Michael to marry her, she hoped. She had seen him after the last incident with that O'Neil guy. If ever he needed any inspiration, this was it. She'd hate to think that it might require Fiona asking him and potentially getting her heart broken again. But Michael looked bothered, which comforted her a little bit. It would work out. She smiled putting the cigarette in her mouth and grabbing something off the counter before walking over to her son.

"Here, I baked some muffins! Try one! They're blueberry, you've always liked blueberry."

Michael grimaced, they looked harmless, but judging by what Sam had said about her last batch of cookies, he didn't want to take his chances.

"You know, ma, they look great, but I should really go see how things are coming along with --"

"Sit!" she commanded "You just got here, if Sean and Fiona are together, I'm sure they're fine."

He huffed then took a seat on the couch, wearily accepting the baked good his mother handed to him. After checking it over for ashes, he took a bite, she was still watching him. It tasted like a sponge with raisins in it.

"Ma, were these fresh blueberries?"

"Uh... No..." her smile faltered a bit, "The fresh ones were so expensive, and they don't keep for long but I saw they had dried blueberries!"

He smiled, forcing himself to swallow. Those two better hurry up before my mom ends up killing me...

----------------------------

The walk did less good for Fi than she had thought, as she reached the walkway, she found herself tense and anxious. She was unable to predict how seeing him again would go. After pacing for a few minutes, she forced her legs to bring her to the front door. She realized that she had forgotten her purse the night before, which had both her keys and her mobile in it. It was another few minutes before she was able to force herself to knock on the door. Fi could hear her brother shuffling around inside and then the cocking of a gun; she waited as he looked through the peephole and opened the door for her.

"Fiona." he said greeted, excitedly.

"Hey Sean, sorry about that, it would seem my purse is in my house... Where it does me absolutely no good."

She laughed lightly as he moved aside to grant her entry. As she shut the door though, he grabbed her around her waist, lifting her off the ground. Instinctively, she found her arms around his shoulders as she waited to be put down again. He did so, though to her surprise, Sean pressed his lips to hers, his rough hand cupping the back of her head. Fi found her back suddenly against the wall and his tongue slipped between her lips as she gasped. Losing herself briefly, she kissed him back, pressing her lithe body against his. He groaned into her mouth, his hand slipping down to cup her firm ass. Fi moaned, ferociously barraging his mouth with hers. Finally, they had to break away from each other, gasping for breath.

"I missed you last night," Sean panted.

"Sean..." she paused to catch her breath, "We really can't do this anymore."

"I suppose you came to tell me to get my stuff." She caught his hard glare.

"Yes, that's exactly what I came to do..." she glanced at his bare chest then down to his boxers, already showing strain.

"I'll grab my laundry; I threw some of your stuff in too."

"You did WHAT?" she exclaimed chasing after him as he headed for the laundry room, "A lot of my clothes are very delicate!"

He snickered as she hurried past him, opening the dryer and finding nothing. Almost panicky, she tossed open the top to the washer examining what he has selected and sighing with relief before moving the wet garments to their destination. As she closed the door and started it up, she turned to face him, jumping at the close proximity.

"You need ta have a little more faith in me, love." he said, closing the gap between them.

"Sean," She warned, his body was pressed against hers again.

"We don't have ta do anythin' more than you want to."

She could feel the dampness of his precum through the thin material, as his erection pressed against her abdomen. Her breath caught in her throat, remembering the night before. She felt herself moisten, as she thought of his member filling her -- Unlike now, where it was settled against her skin. She could feel the blood pulsing through his rigid organ and fought to keep her self control. His calloused hands roved up her bare thighs, thumb slipping beneath the jean material, temptingly close to her wet heat. He leaned down, capturing her lips again. Fiona's legs almost buckled, but she quickly caught herself on the edge of the washing machine. His five o' clock shadow scratched her chin as his tongue fought hers.

"God, Fi." he muttered reaching to unbutton her shorts and pushing them, along with her thong, to the floor. She worked an ankle out before he lifted her up again, this time placing her on the edge of the machine, His hardness brushing the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. She forced herself to think a little clearer for a moment.

"Sean. Phone." she breathed. And he bolted to the front room grabbing her purse. With shaky hands, she clumsily worked the device out from her bag and dialled Michael's mobile. The call itself should have woken her up but it did very little when Sean pushed his boxers down to join her pile of clothes. She caught her breath as the line rang.

"Yeah, Fi."

"Hey Michael, it looks like Sean just started up some laundry before I got here. It's gonna be a little while but we'll be over."

"What are you going to -- Yeah ma, hold on a second," he paused, "What are you going to do 'til then?" Michael asked wearily.

"We were going to use the time to get our weapons in order, just in case we run into any of O'Toole's men." she answered easily. Michael sighed with relief.

"Just be careful, okay Fi?"

"Michael, you know me..."

"That's why I say it."

"Mmhmm... See you in a bit." She flipped the phone shut, momentarily sobered.

Perhaps she should just do what she had lied about. Fi placed the phone back in her back, looking away from her brother. Her centre ached with desire, but could she really betray Michael again? Sean seemed to pick up on her thoughts, letting her hair out from the ponytail. He placed his hands on her hips and kissed her shoulder.

"Fi, the damage is done. An' I've got everything ready. You're na' gonna get in trouble fer somethin' that Westen doesn't know about. Not ta mention ya want this just as bad as I do." he demonstrated by running his finger up her slick folds, much like the way he had the night before. He didn't need the proof for himself this time - not that he didn't enjoy feeling her - he could read her now. Subtle little signs in her body language; the way he could practically see her heart racing beneath her breast; and there was the look of her eyes -- how they seemed to darken from that icy crystal blue to an almost slate colour. She shivered as he pulled her tank top off, capturing her nipple with his mouth, teeth grazing the warm flesh. As her control faltered, she clung to her guilt in hopes to clear her head. But she could feel her loins tightening again, as his tongue traced down her stomach and he arched over to lick the flesh between her parted legs. Small nips against her thigh sent shivers down her spine and electricity through her limbs. His teasing kisses trailed up her inner thigh, eliciting a soft moan. Rough fingers parted her swollen lips, as he lightly lapped at the growing wetness. Drinking in the taste of his sister's arousal, he gently teased her entrance. A loud moan escaped her, as he flicked the tip of his tongue inside her, feeling her core clench, trying to coax him deeper. He groaned into the flesh as he obliged, sliding his tongue into her waiting depths. Her gasp brought a smile to his face, as he explored her depths, searching for that one spot within her... His tongue stroked every inch within her he could reach, until she shuddered, her entire body tensing.

She could feel his grin form, even though she couldn't see his face, as he rubbed that sensitive spot inside her, tendrils of pleasure snaking through her limbs and tightening that knot in her stomach. "Sean..." she hissed through her clenched teeth, already feeling her orgasm beginning building. Still he teased, locking into memory her delectable flavour. She writhed against the cool metal construct, whimpering with need. She was so close... her body longed to feel him fill her again, to feel that impassioned motion of their bodies moving as one. Her taste coating his tongue, he drank her down until his own need overpowered him.

Unable to hold back any longer, he straightened up, pulling her up to the edge of the surface. His hands held her hips, as he positioned himself at her entrance. His lips caught the dim laundry room's light, gleaming with her fluids as he grinned. His body ached to fill her, as he watched her, eyes squeezed shut, and shaking with need. Her fingernails raked at his back as she clung to him. Her hips bucked, pleading for more than the teasing tip of his hard length.

"Do ya want me to stop?" he asked teasingly, already knowing the answer.

"No, God, don't you dare... SEAN!" she screamed out, moaning as he took her at her word, filling her to the hilt.

Her hands shot down to grab his ass for support, as he began pounding into her dripping centre. This was different from last night; this time there was premeditation and surrender. Her mind was as clear as his was as she looked into his eyes, acknowledging her sin. He pulled out almost completely, his breathing heavy as he used all his self control to tease the bundle of nerves inside her with his tip. He ached to fill her again, wanting that feeling of completion that came with their joining. But he loved the way she shook with unbridled need. He could feel her orgasm building, through the tightness in her muscles and her shaking. But he didn't want it to end... he wanted to keep her as high for as long as he could.

Her body clenched, as she felt her need growing unbearable. She let out a scream, leaning unsteadily into his body before pulling him back in to the hilt. Her walls dragged him deeper, undulating tightly against his throbbing shaft. He grunted; sweat dripping from his brow, as he dug his teeth into her shoulder, marking her. Another long moan and she nudged his face with her nose, Capturing his lips in her own; tasting the tang of her arousal and the salt of her skin on his tongue. It was too much. His thrusts wavered as he fought to retain control over himself, not wanting it to ever end.

She pulled at his hips to speed up his rhythm, her core tensing as her orgasm spilled over her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as their bodies would allow, as his rhythm became erratic. Every thrust was a warm wave of pleasure, threatening to drown them both, their breath coming out in shallow pants. He breathed in the scent of his sister once more, taking in everything -- the floral scent of her hair, the sweet musk of her arousal, the way her soft body shook and her hands clenched at him so tightly. Every moan and scream was like a symphony to him as he could no longer fight his own desire. Another thrust brought him, his vision fading around the edges a moment as he filled her with his orgasm. Their fluids mingled, dripping down the edge of the washer as they clung to each other, neither willing or able to let go just yet.

"Jesus, Fiona. I love you."

Fiona drank in the words for a moment. It was a sentence that Michael had never said and, to be honest, probably never would. It was wrong -- A horrible sin... a crime... but it didn't stop her heart from fluttering. She rested her sweaty cheek on his warm, damp shoulder, closing her eyes and relishing the moment. How could something so wrong feel so perfect, anyway? She decided she was very content where she was at and didn't care what Michael would think of it. He wouldn't find out anyway -- this was hers and Sean's little secret. Her smile grew a little wider as she responded to him.

"I love you too, Sean."


End file.
